


I’ve been trapped in a cage, sorrow said I should stay

by Toomanyfandoms99



Series: The Gamblers Codas: A Trilogy [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Breakfast, Coda, Drama, Episode: s15e11 The Gamblers, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), The Empty (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:14:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23110777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: Castiel, Sam, and Dean are already there.  Jack’s dream about being with Billie in the Empty lingers in the back of his mind.They seem to be waiting for him, all three men occupying the small wooden table in the corner.  Dean sits staring at his steaming mug of coffee, unable to speak until the entire oily substance is consumed.  Sam’s head swivels to regard him, baby blues flashing in concern.And Castiel regards him carefully, steepled fingers over the tabletop, inclining his head.  “Did you sleep well, Jack?”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: The Gamblers Codas: A Trilogy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1639798
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	I’ve been trapped in a cage, sorrow said I should stay

**Author's Note:**

> The title was taken from the song “Invisible Chains” by Lauren Jauregui.

Jack steps out of his bedroom for breakfast, unbothered by his appearance. He wears his pajama pants, pooling around his ankles since they are a size too big; and his sleep shirt, baggy around his hips but tight near his broadening shoulders. His hair is frumpy, light brown strands going more to one side than the other.

He sniffles and pads barefoot down the hallway. The hem of his pajama pants catch against his ankles several times, and he enters the kitchen.

Castiel, Sam, and Dean are already there. Jack’s dream about being with Billie in the Empty lingers in the back of his mind.

They seem to be waiting for him, all three men occupying the small wooden table in the corner. Dean sits staring at his steaming mug of coffee, unable to speak until the entire oily substance is consumed. Sam’s head swivels to regard him, baby blues flashing in concern.

And Castiel regards him carefully, steepled fingers over the tabletop, inclining his head. “Did you sleep well, Jack?”

Jack makes for the refrigerator, pawing at a half-empty carton of milk. He pours himself a half-glass, minding his dairy intake as a half-human being.

As he puts back the carton, the refrigerator door closing, he says, “I suppose.”

Jack rummages in Sam’s cupboard, finding a granola cereal box. He opens the tab and gets out a smaller bowl, since he is not overly hungry in the mornings. He pours cereal, enjoying the clink and rush sounds of the raisin flakes forming a mountain in the bowl. He shakes the cereal box to level out the funnel of flakes, closing it and putting it back in Sam’s cupboard.

Jack brings his dry cereal and glass of milk to the counter. The two hunters and one angel watch him stand by the kitchen island, procuring a spoon and sifting raisin flakes onto it.

He tastes the sensation of dry flakes and raisins, deciding he does not mind it; he is not picky about food. He shrugs and swallows the bite.

“Like it?” Sam asks.

Jack shrugs again.

“Come over here,” Castiel says, “there’s a chair here for you.”

Jack grits his teeth and covers it with another spoonful. He doesn’t want to go over there, but they would want to talk about last night. Jack made quite a showing after discovering Dean and Castiel’s newly-romantic relationship.

Billie told him he has to be good. That he should be happy, in fact. So Jack will do it, begrudgingly. Billie is right; far worse could happen than Castiel and Dean falling in love and finally admitting it to each other.

Jack takes his bowl in one hand, his milk in the other. Castiel had indeed brought a chair over for him, stuck in the middle with Castiel, while Dean and Sam each took an end.

Oh, the metaphors.

Jack sets his bowl and glass down on the wooden tabletop, skirting himself in front of the chair before sitting, scooting himself closer. He runs a nervous hand over his bed head, its frumpiness happening on both sides of his natural part equally.

They let him take another spoonful of cereal, chewing and swallowing, before there is an intervention.

“Jack,” Castiel says, “are you alright?”

Jack hums, shading his gaze with his lashes intentionally. His hand curves over the milk glass as he takes a drink.

“About last night,” Castiel says, “I didn’t mean for you to...find out that way.”

Jack does not miss a beat, filling his spoon with more cereal. “Does that mean you had a special plan to tell me?”

Dean inhales sharply, but does not meet anyone’s eyes. Jack does not dare flicker his gaze towards the hunter, who was still tired and oddly silent.

“No,” Castiel replies, “not quite.”

Jack says, “it’s fine, really.” 

He continues with his cereal, taking increment sips of milk. No one speaks for a long moment. No one so much as moves around him.

“I don’t believe you,” Castiel decides.

Jack looks over, then, and Castiel’s eyes squint at the sudden movement.

“The problem I have is not with that,” Jack says pointedly, “it has nothing to do with any of you.”

The words smack Jack in the face as much as it does for Castiel, Sam, and Dean.

It is true; that is the issue Jack has had this entire time. He cannot carry the weight of Billie’s mission. The strain is too much. 

But he must.

The issue is not with Castiel, Dean, and even Sam. The issue is Jack having to war with himself, because the only person he can talk to about his mission is Death herself.

Jack finishes his bowl of cereal in silence.

It is as he finishes the half-glass of milk that Castiel asks, “what does it have to do with, Jack?”

Jack rises from the table, skirting away as he puts his dishes in the sink. “I’m not sure what I can tell you and what I must withhold from you.”

“Kid,” Dean finally says, “we need to know why you were eating hearts.”

Jack purses his lips, water running lightly as he rinses the bowl and glass. “Why are you using the past tense? I still have to eat hearts.”

Sam asks calmly, “can’t we just get you something else? Blood? A kidney? Something humans don’t need to live?”

“No,” Jack says, staring at the sink drain, watching it soak up milk remnants, “I need my powers back, and there is no other way.”

He turns pointedly towards Dean, who had perked up at his previous sentence.

He says, “I’ve never been a kid.”

Dean ducks his head, his voice shockingly weak and timid. “Right. You’re right.”

Jack flicks off the sink faucet and dries the dishes with a hand towel. 

Castiel says, “who told you that you have to do this?”

Jack shades his facial expression and replies, “Death.”

“Death,” Dean says dumbly. “You mean Billie?!”

“Yes,” Jack answers evenly, setting the bowl and glass in the drain board. 

“You report to Billie?” Sam says concernedly. “That’s dangerous.”

“So is everything else in our lives,” Jack says, folding the hand towel beside the sink. “I act on her orders now. And I will be eating hearts, whether you like it or not.”

“Fine,” Dean says simply.

“Dean,” Castiel says shortly.

Jack catches Dean shrug. “We can’t stop him. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

Castiel sighs, but Sam agrees, “we should help Jack if we have no other choice. There’s clearly plenty he’s not telling us, and I would rather be on his good side than the bad side.”

“Aw,” Jack snorts amusedly, “you’re afraid of me.”

“No,” Castiel insists, blue fire eyes fixating on Jack, “I’m not. Never.”

Jack presses his lips together in consideration, then nods.

“Okay, then,” Jack says, “help me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Even though episodes will be on Mondays, I don’t have time to write/post codas until the weekend.
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
